


Elegantly Broken

by Windwyrm



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Northrend, Orc Culture, Orcs, POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Post-World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King, World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21966217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windwyrm/pseuds/Windwyrm
Summary: During the Northrend campaign, the aged High Overlord Varok Saurfang and the brash Overlord Garrosh Hellscream are tasked to work together. Yet sometimes, challenges and adversity force one's hand, and an underlying sense of understanding and kinship begins to bloom between the two.
Relationships: Garrosh Hellscream&Varok Saurfang
Kudos: 4





	Elegantly Broken

**Author's Note:**

> You know what they say, there must always be balance. Couldn't tell you whether I'm balancing the canon with this by giving more love to the best xpack and love to a dynamic we were denied because it would've interfered with their precious one-dimensional plans, or whether I'm balancing my own AU with another AU that went in the polar opposite direction.
> 
> What's for certain is, I ended up with two completely different AUs starring the same characters and I'm having the time of my life. This one will be slow updating, however. Could say I'm taking my sweet sweet time with it.

He still recalled his youth, it had not been quite _that_ long ago despite feeling so when the days grew a little too long or nights grew a little too cold, but he often wondered… had he been as brash, impatient and downright _obnoxious_ as the son of Grommash Hellscream?  
  


With skin still of a rich, healthy tan, eyes of sharp amber like his father, and a build and face the kind that made half of Orgrimmar turn heads at his passing… and then his impatient, reckless yelling would readily turn the other half.

Where Varok was an old soldier with dated ideas, the young Hellscream was the polar opposite. He had a certain way with words and getting through to the young recruits that the old soldier lacked, and his raw passion poured off him in almost physically measurable quantities. In essence, he truly was his father’s son, truly was a Hellscream. And the younger soldiers needed, _thrived on_ , that brand of fire and fierce love for the Horde. His brief presence had already been a blessing, Varok could never argue against that.  
  


But in it all, there was an element that did not sit right with the High Overlord.

Garrosh Hellscream had been dragged out of Garadar and brought onto Azeroth with his mind filled by the grand stories Thrall had of his father, of the Horde, of war and victory. He had been promoted to Overlord as soon as his boot stepped onto Azeroth.

Varok Saurfang was not one to discredit a person’s merit by age or creed. After all, Thrall was younger than Garrosh and he was the Warchief of the new Horde. There were many other brilliant, young men in the Horde military that performed better than even his aged bones at times. And the few mag’har that had come with Garrosh all had high praise regarding the boy’s military leadership. Especially Varok’s own son, Dranosh - and he trusted his son’s judgment. After all, the two had fought side by side for decades, defending what was left of the mag’har.

No, no.

Varok Saurfang was concerned Thrall attempted to revive the father through the son. And not because the boy had displayed the same breed of potential, the same fire… But simply because the boy carried the same name.

And of course, there was the unspoken, unworded question… What would that mean for Dranosh once such time would come that Varok would qualify as an ancestor… ?  
  


“He should send men to Northrend, not sit around waiting to be attacked like a cornered dog.”

A sigh. “Garrosh… “

Amber eyes fixed on him, “You know it to be true.”

“It is not our place to question the Warchief, young Hellscream. We obey his orders and ensure victory in what he commands.”

“Are you not his advisor? Am _**I**_ not his advisor?”

“His decision is final. Even if we may not always agree or see his way.”

Garrosh scoffed, muttering something to himself as he paced away.  
  


Varok sighed deeply, shifting his weight and leaning on the handle of his axe.

There were those that would have interpreted any complaints he might raise through the eyes of the typical fiery man - a view he was well aware of but not at all fond of. A perspective where he was speaking against the promotion simply because he felt his position threatened by a younger, stronger male. Thus, he had opted to hold his tongue on the issue altogether.

And one day, the son of Hellscream would perhaps learn to hold his.


End file.
